


the innocence you spoiled found a way to live

by batofgoodintent (crownedcrusader)



Series: 5 times Kon doesn't have a good day and 1 where he still doesn't [6]
Category: DCU (Comics), Superboy (Comics)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but im including these tags so that people who want to filter it out are able to do so, discussion of past child sexual abuse, its an analysis of things that happened in the comic and a condemnation of a lot of these themes, past knockout/kon, past tana moon/kon, this fic isnt to glorify any of the things listed here, tw: child sexual abuse, tw: discussion of pedophilia, tw: minors with adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-09 04:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcrusader/pseuds/batofgoodintent
Summary: The Suicide Squad has a revolving roster, and one of Waller's recycled recruits causes a bigger problem than the Teen Titans anticipated. Not for the mission, but for Kon.Tim should've addressed Kon's concerns when he first gave them. Not in hindsight, after the incident had already left its mark on him.Or rather, revisited a mark that had been left long ago.





	the innocence you spoiled found a way to live

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This fic addresses some of the more fucked up stuff that was in the early Superboy comics. Including the two full fledged adults that Kon dated when he was 15-16 and only had one year of life experience or less. Thus, this fic addresses the ramifications of childhood sexual abuse, especially when it was left unaddressed in canon. 
> 
> If you are sensitive to CSA, please do not read this. I don't want you to relive anything. Even though this is a condemnation of CSA, and some justice is served and Kon gets some closure and help, if this will trigger you, please do not read it. 
> 
> Title is from 'I'm Not Jesus' by Apocalyptica

“Just so we’re clear—”

Kon all but chased after Tim once the meeting was over. He didn’t exactly trip over himself, even worked up as he was, but he didn’t have the usual Kryptonian power in his stride.

Tim only looked up from his clipboard because Kon’s footsteps were half a beat uneven. “Did you have a question?”

“No. Yes. I did pay attention, if that’s why you’ve got that look.”

Tim glanced back at his clipboard, remnant of a frown still on his face. “I don’t have a look. What’s your question?”

“Okay, so.” Kon floated in front of Tim, still at his normal height, but with his knees bent and a few inches between them and the floor. He rested both hands on the clipboard then lowered it, so Tim had no choice but to look at him. “Just so we’re clear, who’s on the list? The list of Suicide Squad members, I mean. Any idea?”

“We don’t have a list.”

“You’re Red Robin, of course you have a list.”

“Kon.” Tim looked up at his boyfriend, expression flat. “I’m telling you, we don’t have a list. Not an official one. We don’t know who will be on the Suicide Squad this time. Not their names, not even the number of people they’ll officially have. I can give you a list of the most recent sightings of every single Suicide Squad member that’s ever been on that team, and the likelihood of whether or not they’ll be on Waller’s current team. But no. We don’t have an exact list.”

Kon let go of the clipboard. Then his feet hit the ground. “So you’re telling me there’s no list.”

“For the fourth time, yes. There’s no list.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s uh, fine.” Kon sucked in a breath. “No list. Okay.”

Tim narrowed his eyes as he looked up at his boyfriend. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, fine. I’m fine. How are you?”

“Kon.” Tim put a hand on his boyfriend’s wrist. It was deceptively strong, despite Tim being comparatively small. His delicate fingers encircled Kon’s wrist, and he gently tugged on it to coax his boyfriend closer. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

Tim didn’t believe him.

Maybe it was from the shimmer of TTK gathering around him—a telltale sign that he wanted extra protection.

What an invulnerable Kryptonian needed with extra protection, Tim didn’t know. But he did know that Kon was looking from side to side like he was expecting an attack. Or hoping for everyone to clear out of the room before he could say anything else.

Once Cassie and Rose had cleared the door, Tim asked again. He put his hand on Kon’s cheek, piercing him with his best detective eyes.

“Did something happen?”

And Kon opened his mouth. Closed it. And then tried again.

“Not recently,” he finally said. “Not what you’re probably uh, referring to.”

Tim frowned. “Then what is it?”

Kon sighed through his nose. And then he took a minute to collect his thoughts, indecision and hesitation clear on his face.

And then, finally, finally, Kon was on the crux of speaking up. He opened his mouth once more, words just on the tip of his tongue—

“Hey! Cassie’s ordering pizza for after the meeting. If you guys don’t hurry you won’t get to pick toppings!”

Kon closed his mouth and sharply pulled back from Tim’s touch to look at Bart. Bart, who didn’t seem to notice the intimacy of their conversation at all.

“Thanks, Bart,” Tim said. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

Bart sped out of the room once more. Tim reached for Kon’s face again, but Kon laughed uncomfortably and pulled back before he could touch him.

“Kon—”

“Nah, it was nothing anyways.” Kon grinned, fake and awful, and Tim pulled his hand back. “I’ll see you when it’s time for the mission. Ignore the list thing, it’s no big deal.”

With that, Kon headed out the door, calling for Bart to leave him something.

Tim stared at the exit long after Kon’s body had disappeared through it. Then he glanced down at his clipboard and made a note to look up any connections between Kon and any Suicide Squad members, past or present.

_Not recently_, he’d said.

_So_, Tim thought to himself. _A night researching past Suicide Squad members it was_.

* * *

One Gotham emergency later, and Tim had had no time at all to research Kon’s potential connections to the Suicide Squad.

It wasn’t like Tim had just forgotten. He’d just been _busy_. He’d managed to help Dick track down Poison Ivy and brainstorm with Barbara about what Ra’s al Ghul was up to. But before he could ask Barbara if she knew anything about the current Suicide Squad member list, she’d had a more pressing emergency, and Tim had let her go.

Tim hadn’t forgotten. He _hadn’t_. He’d meant to research—meant to ask. Anything.

But some things were life and death. And this was just something that was mildly bothering his boyfriend. Something that Kon had explicitly told him to ignore and leave alone. And no matter how much Tim didn’t believe Kon’s insistence that he was fine, Kon had promised that he was nonetheless.

So maybe it wasn’t even Tim’s business.

Instead, his business was to tell the Teen Titans what they would be focusing on in this fight. That they were trying to prevent a break-in at a weapons facility. That Amanda Waller wanted something that she shouldn’t, by any circumstance, get her hands on.

(“So… We’re breaking in to prevent a break-in?”

“We aren’t debating this right now, Rose.”

“—And we’re fighting against like, the government now?”

“Technically _most_ of what we do isn’t legal, Bart.”

_“What we do isn’t legal?!”_

“—Tim, relax, put your batarang down. He’s with _the Flash_, of course he doesn’t get it.”)

And while the Suicide Squad often had high-profile members, Tim wasn’t all that concerned. From the looks of the data, he couldn’t place anyone’s identities—but they would have known if it was someone extraordinarily dangerous.

Like Deadshot or Enchantress. Or Captain Boomerang.

Tim was pretty sure of the last one, after keeping tabs on him for years.

Still, he didn’t like knowing what he was walking into. He could sympathize with his boyfriend, really. Going in blind was never fun.

But they were on the way to the mission now, and Tim was ready for it to be over. He could tell that Kon was, too, especially since his boyfriend was more nervous than usual.

Tim could tell from the jiggling leg next to him. The one that hadn’t stopped moving since they’d sat down. Kon had thankfully managed not to put a dent in the floor—as Supers were notorious for doing—but that didn’t mean it wasn’t concerning.

Tim put his hand on top of Kon’s and gave it a squeeze.

“If something’s bothering you,” he started, low enough not to alert their teammates. “Then you can tell me. Okay?”

And just as before, Kon looked like there was something he wanted to say.

Something just on the tip of his tongue.

But before he could say anything, Rose came from the front of the plane and said they were landing. And then Tim was in leader mode yet again.

He gave Kon a sympathetic look and kissed his cheek.

The mission had to come first.

Whatever was wrong, they could talk about it later.

So Tim stood, and gave everyone their last minute instructions. And the next time Tim looked at Kon, he looked like whatever funk had been plaguing him had passed.

Everything would be fine, then. Kon was, for all his early adolescence impulsivity, one of his most reliable teammates when it came to busting heads. He’d be okay for the next few hours. Tim was sure of it.

* * *

The Suicide Squad came only minutes after the Teen Titans had taken their posts.

Tim was closest to the weapon control room along with Rose and M’gann, while Kon and Cassie covered the skies nearby, and Bart ran around the perimeter—the former three being the infield team, and the latter running outfield. With three outfielders, Tim was confident that they wouldn’t be taken by surprise.

And that confidence was rewarded when Cassie came over their temporary comms link and warned them all that the Suicide Squad was coming in a stealth jet.

Bart numbered three parachutes from the plane.

Three for three, on the outskirts. But the Suicide Squad never had just three people. There were bound to be more. Still, Cassie, Kon, and Bart ran towards the three that had landed and engaged them as quick as they could. Tim could tell by the sonic booms he’d heard outside and the sound of commotion that they were close. Close enough for him to worry.

“Just keep them from getting inside,” Tim said. “Incapacitate whoever you can. List names when you can, so we can be prepared if they do get past you.”

Bart gave an affirmative—Cassie and Kon were still quiet, probably already started into combat. He couldn’t help but notice Ravager getting twitchy, just sitting and waiting for action.

“Our teammates are out there,” she said, as if Tim didn’t already know. “We should be helping.”

Tim agreed, but only privately. Instead, he stayed quiet and bit the inside of his cheek. He timed out thirty seconds. Then, “What is everyone’s status? Ms. M and Ravager are standing by.”

Cassie’s link sounded a little weak, as though she was speaking through gritted teeth. “Killer Frost here. Bart’s fighting Reactron. Kon’s with Knockout.”

“Mid-low tier?” Tim asked. “No one else has shown up?”

“Mid tier,” Cassie confirmed. Then, in an odd tone, “Kon isn’t doing…—”

Tim waited for her to finish, but the fight continued on her end, clearly heating up too much to carry on a conversation adequately. Or cooling down, as she was against Killer Frost. Tim frowned as he realized Kon still hadn’t come over comms.

Whatever ‘Kon wasn’t doing’, it probably wasn’t good.

But he was clearly in sight of Bart and Cassie—both people who cared about him. People who would speak up if anything were to happen. So Tim freed up his mind of worry as best he could, and waited for the other villains to appear.

Sure enough, in the next three minutes, more Suicide Squad members burst through the windows. Two he recognized as Count Vertigo and Copperhead. Two he didn’t recognize immediately, and who he hadn’t even known Waller had recruited. But she did tend to keep that information under wraps; Tim was never surprised when they had new members. He just wished he knew what they were capable of.

“Four inside the perimeter,” Tim said. “All Titans, inside. Protect the weapons.”

And from there, it went about as Tim expected—at least for a few minutes. Fights never took as long as he anticipated, and he easily used his bo-staff against the Suicide Squad members that dared to get close enough.

Every other Teen Titan was doing what they needed to, too. With Rose, Bart, and Cassie in combat and M’gann working on getting intel, everything seemed to be going according to plan.

He even saw Cassie, Bart, and Kon filter inside after a few minutes.

It seemed to be going well, from the brief moments Tim could afford to look up from his own fight. His anxiety was almost gone after seeing his team performing so admirably.

But then, he heard Cassie shout from across the room.

“Kon, _fight back!” _

And Tim was so distracted that he nearly lost track of his own adversary. Fortunately, when they swung at him, he reacted a little too harshly and jabbed him—_hard_—in the pelvis with his staff. The man crumpled, and Tim took advantage of his position to force handcuffs on him. He hit his downed adversary’s head for good measure. Not enough to give him long-term brain damage—hopefully. But enough to keep him disoriented until this was over.

Tim ran towards Kon, not even assessing the situation from a distance before coming into it.

And he was almost glad he hadn’t.

No amount of preparation could have given him a better response than his instinctual one.

Knockout, who Kon had been fighting since he’d been outside, was tag-teamed alongside Killer Frost. Cassie had switched opponents and was trying to help M’gann, which meant Kon was alone with both.

And when Tim got onto the scene, Knockout was perched on Kon’s lap.

It wasn’t so strange on the field—sometimes villains got the upper hand and it was the perfect striking distance to hit someone’s face over and over and over again.

But that wasn’t what Knockout was doing.

Instead, she had Kon’s cheek cupped, and she’d leaned in close.

Whispering something into his ear.

Every now and then, Knockout turned with a wicked grin back to Killer Frost.

At first, Tim had no clue what she was doing. It was too bizarre on the field—too strange for it to happen to _Kon_, the strongest person on their team.

And Kon was _frozen_.

But then Tim was just close enough to make out her words.

“Maybe I’ll just sneak you back to my cell,” she said. “And we can pick up where we left off.”

Kon’s throat bobbed, visible even from here. And there was a flicker of TTK, just faint enough for Tim to see the sheen.

Knockout pinched him, hard, on the side of his neck.

The forcefield, already weak compared to Kon’s usual ones, flickered out of existence.

“You really think you could block me out? Oh, Superboy.” Knockout grinned, wicked and wide. “I taught you all of your first moves. And let’s face it, you haven’t exactly come up with many new ones since then. Nothing that isn’t totally boring and predictable.”

She traced a finger down his jaw.

“And since when is _my pup_ boring and predictable?”

As frozen as Kon had been before, he was absolutely paralyzed now.

Luckily for him, Tim wasn’t.

Tim jumped with a move Dick had taught him long ago, one meant to take down adversaries far bigger than Knockout.

Predictably, she came down harder than Tim had intended. He was pretty sure she might have lost a tooth, had she been an ordinary person. If she’d been normal, she definitely would’ve broken a bone or two from the rough landing.

Once she was off, Tim was quick to bash her head against the ground. And then, just as quick, he forced her hands behind her back and encased them in the metahuman blocking cuffs.

Tim looked up to ask if Kon was okay, but Kon was already scrambling up. He looked pale—too pale to go right back to combat.

But before Tim could order him to remove himself from the situation, Killer Frost shot a blast of ice towards Kon, and there was no way to remove him safely. All he could do was fight back. And to Kon’s credit, he did. He fought admirably, dodging blasts and staying on his feet no matter how unsteady he looked.

And then M’gann came over comms asking for Tim’s help.

Though Tim could barely hear it over the roaring in his ears, he knew it had to be his priority so they could wrap this up and get home.

And Knockout was already depowered and knocked out.

There was nothing Tim could do here. So he went back to his position and carried out the rest of the mission as planned.

Even though Kon was clearly rattled, it seemed like the right thing to do. For now, anyways. So Tim ignored the way his heart was aching for his boyfriend and the guilty feeling that was following him.

* * *

After everyone was in custody, Tim couldn’t help but notice that his boyfriend looked more subdued than usual.

_‘Kon, fight back!’_ flashed through his mind again.

And Tim still didn’t know what it had been about. What Knockout had been trying to do—and why Kon had just let it happen. Why he’d just let her sit on his lap and say vile things.

Did Kon _like_ being flirted with? Did he like it when strange, villainous women pushed him down and forced themselves on him?

Tim could _almost_ believe it.

But then he remembered the frozen look on Kon’s face, and how pale he was.

And the knowledge that he and Kon had been dating for a while, yet Kon had never once shown any desire for that kind of treatment.

And then there was the fact that Kon hadn’t even broken out of it when Cassie had screamed at him.

_‘Kon, fight back!’ _

Even now, Kon was sitting in the debrief room, unmoved even as Tim called the session to an end and released his team to shower and eat and get some rest. Kon didn’t even twitch. Tim half believed that Kon wanted to talk and that was why he was lingering, but…

He knew what Kon looked like, when he needed to talk.

There was usually an anxious energy around Kon when something was bothering him. The Kon sitting in front of him, though—

This Kon was staring into space and not moving.

Once Tim was finished getting his papers together, he treaded into the sitting area.

Kon startled as soon as Tim got within a ten-foot radius. “Sorry. Zoned out, I’m just—I’m gonna go shower.”

_Shower_—not split a truly gross amount of food with Bart.

“Kon, are you okay?”

Kon flinched. “Yes. Yeah, I’m fine. It was—whatever you saw, it was nothing.”

“Nothing?” Tim moved closer, ignoring the way Kon seemed to shrink in on himself. “’Nothing’ doesn’t make you act like this.”

“Like what?” Kon asked, seemingly unaware of how he’d stood and edged himself as far away as Tim as he could get without outright bolting out the door. Every part of his body language screamed ‘skittish animal.’ And the way he was looking between Tim and the exit, and the clearest path to the door… Tim frowned deeper and took another step towards him despite his better judgment.

Kon took a step back.

Tim opened his mouth to reply, but the words didn’t come. The analysist in his brain took over though, and he took a mental step back. And then a physical one.

If this was any other teammate and not his boyfriend, what should he do?

“Take a shower and then get something to eat,” he said. “We’re going to talk about this afterwards. How does nine sound?”

“Talk about what?” A fake laugh bubbled out of Kon’s chest—but Tim wasn’t sure if it was fake as much as anxious. A way to cover how distressed he was feeling. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You’ve got two hours to feel a little more together,” Tim said again. Then he shuffled his papers and clipboards until they were tidier and took the long way out of the room. The way that meant he wouldn’t infringe on Kon’s personal space any more than he already had.

He walked through the doorway, holding his resolve until he’d passed the doorway, and then again, after he’d passed the doorway into his office.

But when he was sure he was inside and Kon wouldn’t hear him, he leaned against the doorway and slid down to the ground. He pushed his palm against his forehead, rubbing the heel of his hand into a growing emotional headache.

Was there a way to say he was sorry for not knowing what had happened? For still not knowing?

It was tempting to just wait and let Kon tell him the truth. But the investigator in him needed to know the details—everything he could find—before Kon got there. That way he could corroborate the story and make sure Kon was being honest with him. And that Tim could ask the right questions, in case Kon tried to downplay anything. So once he felt a little calmer, he stood, set his clipboard aside, and then went to his computer.

Last night, he hadn’t made Kon the priority. Gotham had come between him and his boyfriend, and Tim hadn’t been able to investigate ahead of time.

Maybe if he had, they would have been able to prevent what had happened in the field.

So today, he turned his phone off and set it across the room.

Tim had research to do.

* * *

The information wasn’t half as forthcoming as he hoped it would be.

Knockout and Kon had known each other, once. Long before Kon’s legal name was Conner Kent—and quite some time before he even got the name Kon-El. When he was still Superboy, and was living in Hawaii.

But there wasn’t much substance to it. Nothing to prompt the kind of frozen response Tim had seen.

The only thing he’d been able to find was that Kon had worked with Knockout for a while. That a police officer had died at Knockout’s hands, but that Kon hadn’t been willing to believe she was guilty. So he’d gone against all authority figures and covered for her, allying himself with her despite the disbelief and rebuking Kon got from every single person who knew him. And Kon stayed with her right up until she tried to get him to murder someone. Then Kon had come to his senses and dropped her, fighting her, winning, and then turning her into the police.

And that was all Tim could find on their history together.

Tim pushed his rolling chair away from the computer, leaning heavier against the backrest.

He didn’t understand it.

She’d betrayed him, yes. That could prompt Kon’s response, if the hurt from a betrayal was that serious. But Kon had been through worse than the betrayal of a friend, hadn’t he? He’d been through a lot. And very few things prompted Kon to flinch like this.

Not that Kon didn’t react to plenty of things. Because he did. His anger or depressive spirals were a consistent reaction to quite a few different issues.

But flinching? Kon? Never.

And sure, Knockout was a big lady. But Kon had fought much more physically intimidating people, men and women alike. Why would he be so scared of this woman?

But then, there was that word.

_Woman_.

Tim stared at the ceiling, then thought back to the relationship aspect of her and Kon’s history. And the very sexual way she’d seated herself on Kon’s lap.

And then, Tim calculated Kon’s age compared to Knockout’s.

(As usual, Kon’s age required a little more math and guesstimation than Tim liked.

Because really—were they counting the time Kon had been dead as him aging? What about the year and a half his age had been frozen at sixteen? And were they going by years alive, because that would mean he was only about six, even if they were counting the year he’d been dead. Or were they counting the age he’d started, at fifteen, because then he could be twenty-one if they were counting the year dead. Or were they going by physical approximation, because he’d only be nineteen then.

One of these days, Tim would find the right estimation. But for now, he calculated ‘twenty’ as it was a good middle-ground between a few ages.

And because he didn’t want Kon to be old enough to drink before Tim himself was.)

By the most generous estimate, Knockout had been twice as old as Kon was when they met. Fifteen _physically_, and with a few months of life experience.

Yet it was clear they’d had a sexual relationship.

Knockout had to have been thirty.

And given that Furies stopped aging at thirty, there was no telling how long she’d been thirty.

Tim felt sick, but he didn’t move out of his seat. Instead, he took a few breaths to steady himself. Then, slowly, he rolled his chair back closer to his laptop, and continued researching.

Knockout had been in and out of prison for the last few years. She’d been dead, briefly. Then revived at the hands of her girlfriend. And now she was here. On the Suicide Squad. Again. And the second she’d seen Kon, she’d planted herself on his lap and reminded him of everything she’d put him through.

When he was fifteen.

And she was thirty.

And given that she never aged… For Kon, it had to have been like stepping back in time.

Not to mention, she’d been the one to teach Kon how to control his TTK.

Had Kon been half powerless when they’d met?

This time, Tim felt sick enough that he had to stand. He went to the restroom attached to his room but stopped short of gagging.

Nothing came out.

This wasn’t his tragedy. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Just before he figured out what to do with the sick feeling in his stomach, he heard a knock at the door.

For a terrible second, he hoped it wasn’t Kon, because Tim wasn’t sure if he’d be able to help him as much as he needed.

But then Tim remembered that he was the leader of the Teen Titans, had been the leader of Young Justice, and had earned his spot as Robin because he’d _taken some damn initiative_. And more than that, he was Kon’s boyfriend, and was one of the few people in his life that had never hurt him, betrayed him, ignored him, or took advantage of him.

So Tim splashed his face with water, dried it off, and went to face his boyfriend.

On the other side of the door, Kon stood, perfect and sweet and uncharacteristically shy. But he could barely hold eye-contact—the first sign that something was still off.

Tim stepped aside so that Kon could come in. “I’m glad you came,” he said, as Kon visibly debated whether or not to take him up on his invitation. “And before you tell me we don’t have to talk about it, I’ve already looked up everything I could find.”

Kon’s face went pale, then pink.

And not the kind of pink Tim liked to put on his face.

Kon looked between Tim and the empty hallway. Then, grudgingly, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He leaned on it heavily, sagging down as soon as his back hit the wood. “You didn’t have to look it up,” he said. And yet there was no anger in his voice. Just disappointment. And maybe a little embarrassment. Not quite the deep-seated shame that he’d been giving off in waves earlier. Or the anxiety, or the self-loathing.

It was an improvement.

“But I did.”

“Have to, or have to look it up?”

“Both.” Tim sat on the edge of the bed, then patted the spot next to him. “Because I love you. Which I know you know.” He watched as Kon cracked an eye open to look at him, and he repeated the gesture—this time with a cozy blanket for Kon to wrap himself in, if he was so inclined. “And because I know you so well, I know you might not want to talk about it. Which is okay. Because, again, I already looked it up. And we both know how good I am at pulling together clues.”

Kon trudged towards the bed. And without a fight, he took the blanket and pulled it around his shoulders, knees coming up to rest against his chest. “Then I’m here… why?”

“Because I want to know if you’re okay.”

Kon snorted. “You know I am.”

“I don’t.” Tim looked at him seriously, then rested a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Kon didn’t flinch, which was a good sign. “I know that you want me to think you’re fine. But I don’t know that you are. I’ve never seen you react like this before. So. Are you okay?”

Kon opened his mouth, probably to say yes.

But then, no sound came out.

He swallowed once, twice. —Three times before he tried again. And when he finally got a word out, it was curiously hoarse.

“Yeah,” Kon managed, the lie clear in his tone. “I’m going to be fine, Tim. It was just hard.”

Tim quietly opened his arms, and Kon leaned against his side, allowing his boyfriend to wrap him up in something a thousand times safer than the blanket. (Though admittedly, the blanket sure added _something_.)

“I won’t put you in that situation again.” Tim eased one hand up to run through Kon’s hair, combing through slow and sweet until he found the perfect balance. Enough to make even a Kryptonian feel it, but enough to be as gentle and sweet as Kon needed. “Ever. As a team leader, I should have checked in with you the second you seemed off.”

“You _did_ ask.”

“Then I should’ve asked _again_. I’m a detective, and I’m not stupid, and I knew you weren’t saying what you needed to say.” Tim sighed, tugging him closer. “As team leader, I should have done better. And as your boyfriend…”

Kon hummed as Tim scratched a particular patch of his scalp. “As my boyfriend?”

“As your boyfriend… I should have ripped her apart the second she touched you.”

If nothing else, that got a laugh out of his boyfriend.

“And I should’ve made you a priority the second you seemed uncertain. It never should’ve gotten to that point in the field. The moment you were in over your head, you should’ve gotten help. Someone should’ve come to your aid.”

“You were all busy. And let’s face it. Since when does anyone need to save a Kryptonian when there’s not even Kryptonite involved?”

Tim took hold of Kon’s jaw with his thumb and forefinger, then angled it towards his own face. “You don’t get to minimize this,” he said, in a voice just a breath lower than his usual leader tone. He saw Kon shudder under him, then softened it with a kiss to his forehead. “But it _is_ going to be okay. It was an unexpected trigger out there. Or maybe expected enough that you worked yourself up even before she got there.”

Kon looked away, and Tim had a feeling it was more the latter than the former.

“And,” Tim added, “That’s fine. Something happened to you. It’s okay for it to affect you, especially if you never really got the chance to deal with it.”

Between everything else going on in Kon’s life at the time, Tim was willing to bet that part was true.

Like the _other_ adult who wanted to date him at the time.

The one who was a college graduate and a working woman and had to be at least twenty-four. While Kon was fifteen. And just coming out of his relationship with Knockout. Who was thirty and had hurt and betrayed him by killing someone while posing as a good person. Who’d turned the other Supers against him because he’d trusted her over logic and reason and common sense.

Of _course_ Kon would have gone with Tana Moon.

She must have seemed like heaven in comparison.

But talking about Tana was still off limits. Her death had been too painful. So no, Tim wasn’t about to bring her up. Instead, he just kept coming his fingers through Kon’s hair.

“Take your time tonight,” Tim finally said. “You don’t need to talk about it if you aren’t ready.”

When Kon didn’t say anything at all, Tim didn’t take offense. Instead, he just sat with him a while longer. Kon stayed quiet for so long that Tim almost though he’d fallen asleep.

But then,

“It didn’t feel wrong to be with her when it was happening.”

Tim tried not to show his wince. “It wouldn’t have. You didn’t know anything else.” It was better than saying ‘you didn’t know any better,’ as if Kon had been a lost child.

Which he had been.

But Kon didn’t need to hear that.

It hadn’t been that long ago in years, but it had lasted for only the first quarter of Kon’s life. More, maybe, depending on how they did the math, and if they were counting Tana’s influence.

Which meant it was _far_ in the past, as far as Kon’s history went.

As far back as Tim’s unhappy childhood, comparatively.

The unhappy childhood he still didn’t like talking about.

Tim flickered his eyes to the ceiling, then back down. Kon was still staring at something fixed in the distance, and Tim didn’t dare to ask what he was trying so hard to keep his face neutral for. He knew how Kon hated to break down in front of others.

And as important as it was for Kon to feel comfortable breaking down eventually, Tim refused to be what pushed his boyfriend over the edge.

But there was something he needed to know, for Kon’s sake. For the sake of his best friend, for the teen who’d been through so much and still came out strong on the other side of it all. Who’d been passed around from guardian to guardian and never got the chance to be around adults who cared about his well-being—who cared about his nightmares and trauma.

Ma and Pa Kent had been godsends.

But…

“Did you ever tell the Kents?”

Kon’s expression wavered so quick Tim almost missed it. “About _this_?”

Tim nodded.

There was a pause. A long one—full of time for Tim to expect the best, the worst, and everything in-between. Then, “They knew we dated.”

Tim waited for something, _anything_ to be added to it.

But it seemed that was the end of it.

“They never told you that it was wrong?”

“Of course they told me it was wrong,” Kon said. But he bit his inside of his lip, avoiding eye-contact as he thought it over. “But they didn’t tell me in what ways. They didn’t—” He paused, let his thoughts catch up with his mouth. “I was already having a hard time adjusting to all the changes that came with living with them, and taking medication for my…” He bit the inside of his cheek, still as tightlipped as ever about taking anti-depressants even now, and medication for bipolar disorder back then. “You know. …But with Knockout… They just talked about her the same way everyone else said it was wrong. She killed someone, let me take the fall for it because I trusted her. That stuff. They made it sound like that was the only thing wrong. Not… not how she made me feel even when things were good.”

“How she made you feel?”

“Like it was good for me to be with her,” he said. “Like I needed her. Like she was the only one I could trust and that everyone trying to break us up just didn’t understand that she was what I needed.” He swallowed thickly, took a breath, and crossed his arms over his chest and stomach, curling into himself even while lying in Tim’s lap. “Everything was so… exciting. And taboo.”

A muscle in Tim’s jaw jumped.

“—And she always treated me more like an adult, which I- I wanted. I had adult responsibilities, like a job to do, to save the world— and income from all the merch Rex was selling of me.” He paused. “And it wasn’t like I had parents. So no one… --I mean, it’s not like the others didn’t _know_ it was skeevy. And they had to have realized the- the age gap. But no one told me that part. And Tana… She couldn’t have told me that it was wrong, because she-…”

And then Kon’s throat was too tight to finish the thought.

Tim ran his nails through Kon’s hair, soothing him when he felt Kon starting to tense. “You don’t have to talk about Tana if you can’t do it yet,” he said, even though it had been years.

But Kon didn’t stop there, for the first time in years.

His voice was small, but he continued nonetheless. “Tana makes it confusing.”

It killed Tim to hear it out loud.

Because how could it not have been confusing?

For everything terrible about Knockout, Tana Moon hadn’t been outwardly horrible. She’d been kind, supportive, and had brought out the best in Kon.

And she’d broken up with him when he was physically stalled at sixteen. _Because_ he was stuck at sixteen.

Tim didn’t know why she’d went for it _at all_ when he was still a child, but—

She’d at least ended it, when it was clear that he’d be a child for much longer. That she couldn’t just wait it out for two years and people would stop giving her judgmental looks for dating a child. And she had gotten those looks, Tim knew she had, because he remembered how angry Kon had been when anyone criticized Tana for dating him.

Tim hadn’t thought much about it, back then. He’d just been a kid, too. Fourteen, fifteen at most when Kon was going through this.

But he’d been old enough to punch rapists, to set traps for sex-traffickers in Gotham.

He should have realized that Kon was being taken advantage of. Even if Tana hadn’t slept with him like Knockout had; even if Tana had been decent to him while they were together; even if Tana wasn’t the picture of a usual child predator.

And even now, Tim hated that he wasn’t sure what he ought to feel about her.

Anger was a given.

But the rest…

What were you supposed to feel for a woman who’d been twenty-four and decided to date a sixteen-year-old? Much less a sixteen-year-old who only had one year’s life experience, and who’d just been groomed by an abusive thirty-year-old?

What were you supposed to feel for her when she’d been outwardly kind? When she’d been his moral compass and a true north, when everyone else had taken advantage of him, like Rex Leech—or had ostracized him, like Clark and Kara—or had treated him like an adult and test subject with a job, like CADMUS?

But people had told her that Kon was sixteen and too young for her.

And that information _had_ made Tana uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough to say no to Kon’s advances for a while, because she was an adult who needed to say no, and had risen to that responsibility.

But then she did it anyways.

Tana Moon made the conscious choice to date Kon after Knockout had laid the groundwork.

Tim’s stomach turned.

“She was still wrong,” Tim finally said.

And Kon’s eyes watered, even as he nodded. “I know that now. No one wanted to tell me,” he said. Or tried, despite the audible lump in his throat. “I had to figure it out on my own. Everyone was too scared of upsetting me after she was dead.”

Tim tried not to wince. He’d been scared, too. Scared to even bring it up. Nervous that it would upset the delicate balance Kon had finally struck of holding himself together.

“Between what happened to Tana and what happened to Guardian, you were beyond just _sad_ about their deaths. You were depressed for weeks, Kon,” Tim said. Distrust flashed in Kon’s eyes, and Tim held up a finger. “I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added. “But it showed in the little things. Never leaving CADMUS. Barely showering. Not changing clothes. Lashing out. Needing an entire pot of coffee to just pull yourself out of bed in the morning and do anything. And you told us to not ask you about her. I know we should’ve—but you asked us not to. We were trying to be good friends, I swear we were.”

Kon managed a bittersweet smile. “I know you were,” he said. “But I didn’t tell _everyone_ not to ask. And no one else asked either.”

Meaning, none of the adults in Kon’s life.

Tim’s heart felt squeezed.

“I didn’t even realize how wrong she was back then,” Tim admitted. Then, in a quieter voice, “But maybe that was partly because I only knew about her from you, and you wouldn’t let anyone talk badly about her.”

“I know. I know.” Kon took a breath. “But hey, none of this is me blaming _you_, Tim.” Kon reached up and cupped Tim’s face, smoothing his thumb over his cheek. “I’m just… talking about what happened. But I did have adults in my life back then. Kind of. Off and on. And they didn’t tell me anything.”

_Tthey failed me_, went unspoken.

“Yeah,” Tim said, more to the unspoken words than to what Kon had actually voiced.

Then he shifted, moving to lie beside him instead of letting Kon cuddle up to his lap. Kon didn’t stiffen up this time, having relaxed as they were talking. Tim slipped his arms around Kon’s chest when he received no opposition.

They were quiet for a while, the conversation stalling while Tim rubbed Kon’s back and mentally thanked the powers that be that Kon wasn’t falling into a depression over this. That instead, he was talking—being open—trying to heal.

Whether it was after Tana died and he lost his powers from how hard it was to accept her death, or when Guardian died and he went into a several-week long depression, or after he’d broken Tim’s arm when he was under Lex’s mind control and didn’t leave the Kent farm for over a month because of a deep depression… Kon had a history with low points and spiraling depression. Some history of manic-depression and bipolar disorder when he was younger, too.

But it had been the depression that had been the most consistent. He hadn’t had any issues with the manic side since before he died.

Tim just hoped _this_ wouldn’t trigger another episode, depression or otherwise. He doubted it would, because he knew how strong Kon was. He knew it’d take more than this to pull Kon back under that dark cloud. But he still worried for him sometimes. Especially when Kon was so delicate in his arms.

Then,

“Clark was dead for a lot of it,” Kon finally said, breaking the silence. “And when he saw how bad things got when I was on my own, he did the best thing he could’ve done for me. Got me to the Kent farm, made sure I was being taken care of. All of it. Even before that, not long after he came back to life, he gave me my name. I know he rejected me at first, but—after he came around… I don’t know. He was… decent.”

“Yeah?” Tim said, with a subtle, _and what about it? _in his voice.

“Maybe I could talk to him.” He shrugged a shoulder. “He wouldn’t have any biases. Or bad memories associated with it, or how I reacted. Might be good for me, to talk to him. Have someone who’s objective about it and isn’t that afraid of telling me what he thinks.”

Part of Tim felt the sting of rejection.

The sting of _I’m sorry but I’m not sure how much I want you to know. I’m sorry but this is too much already. I’m sorry but we can’t keep talking about this today, or any other day._

But the other part of Tim felt a surge of pride, because even if Kon wasn’t looking for it in Tim, he was looking for help somewhere. And that was a big move, for Kon.

That mix of emotions made Tim’s heart feel a little too big for his chest. He smiled despite the stinging, then grabbed Kon’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I think that’s a good idea,” he said. And Kon didn’t need to know the other parts—his concerns, or worries about why it wasn’t Tim he was solely trusting. “I’m glad you told me, and I love you—but if you need to talk to Clark, then talk to Clark, too.”

A tiny part of him wondered why Ma and Pa weren’t on that list. But Kon was reaching out, and that was more than enough for Tim.

“Thank you,” Kon said. He managed a smile, small and tense.

And then, the tense bubble they’d been living in for the past few minutes popped. 

Finally, Kon sat up. He propped himself on his palms, then looked towards the ceiling. “I’m going to go grab dinner. I may have ignored orders and not actually eaten after I showered. But I’m feeling alright now. How about we grab something to eat, huh?”

And it seemed for tonight, that was the end of it.

* * *

One week later, Tim came to Metropolis to do Lois a favor. And to plant bugs at the Daily Planet to check if Bruce’s suspect was hiding out in Metropolis like they feared. But mostly to do Lois a favor.

He brought her coffee while it was still hot, and dinner from a nearby overpriced sandwich shop.

That, and bring her some pictures of a crime scene with indisputable proof that a few Gotham villains had made their way to Metropolis. It was good to keep the people informed, and Lois Lane was the surest way to do that. But adding a sandwich and a coffee to sweeten the deal didn’t hurt.

However, after he’d dropped off the pictures and the food, he ran into Clark and a glasses-and-flannel ‘Conner Kent’ in the Daily Planet lobby.

Almost literally.

He nearly spilled coffee on Kon, he was so surprised to see him.

“Careful,” Clark said, putting an arm in front of Kon’s chest and catching the coffee with his blazer sleeve instead of letting it splash Kon. To an outsider, it was sweet—though Superboy could clearly handle a little coffee. “It’s hot.”

“Sorry.” Tim took a step back, glancing between the two. “I was just surprised. I didn’t realize you two were getting lunch together today.”

Clark looked at Kon. His smile strained, close-lipped and even. “We figured it was time we caught up. Conner was just walking back with me to work. But I suppose he’s in better hands with you.”

Kon looked just as flustered as Clark. But he nodded, then stepped away from the original Superman, and closer to his boyfriend. “We’ve got more reason to be in Metropolis than you, babe. What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood with Lois,” Tim said—in the tone that meant, ‘bat-business.’ Kon raised a brow. “Delivering her some lunch. Maybe if I suck up to her enough she’ll put in a good word for me at the Planet, let me be the next bigshot photographer.”

Kon snorted. “I hope she does.”

Tim took a sip of what remained of his coffee. “So, was lunch any good?”

“Yeah.” Kon looked up at Clark, and the two of them communicated something between them, eyes meeting for just a second too long. Cryptic, like old friends with an in-joke. “Just talking about life at the Planet. And a, uh, reporter who used to work here, before relocating to Hawaii. Checking in on what ever happened to her.”

_Tana_, he didn’t say.

“And to one of the stories that reporter had been following through her career,” Clark finished. He put a hand on Kon’s shoulder and squeezed—something protective in the way his knuckles flexed with the motion. “About a villain who recently came back to life and joined the Suicide Squad.”

Tim looked up, brain already on the ready for details to file away. “Do you have any information about that story?”

Clark’s eyes darkened behind his glasses. “It’ll be resolved soon. There are some new allegations about her that violate Amanda Waller’s terms of contract. Argued through the right avenues, Waller will have no choice but to revoke her license to be a part of the squad.”

“What a shame.” Tim’s voice was flat, conveying just how little sympathy he felt for Knockout. “Well, if that’s all settled, then I think it’s time to take my boyfriend out for the night.” He looked up at Kon, whose face had gone a somewhat delicate shade of pink. It wasn’t a bad pink, though. Instead of shame, it looked more like an embarrassed flush from having two people who loved him fussing over him so much. “We’ve got something to celebrate.”

With that, the side of Clark’s mouth turned up, and he finally released his grip on Kon’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” he said as he ruffled Kon’s hair.

“Big promise to make at 4:30 in the afternoon,” Kon said as he jokingly hit the side of Clark’s arm. “Check in with me later and we’ll see if I lived up to your expectations.”

Clark rolled his eyes. Then he affectionately pushed him towards Tim. “Alright, well. Some of us have to actually work. Keep an eye on him, Tim. Will you?”

“You don’t even have to ask.” Tim reached for Kon’s hand, then with all the reassurance and love he had for his boyfriend, he gave it a soft squeeze.

As if to say, _yes, I’ll look out for you, always. Yes, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you again. Yes, I’ll make sure you stay safe and that I never hurt you the way others have._

Kon squeezed his hand right back.

And for all the wrongs in the world that all of them had lived through—that _Kon_ had lived through, it seemed like things might actually be okay.


End file.
